


twenty-year dark night

by qmalfoy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: (boris), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Separated at Birth, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, feeling each others emotions, first words on each others skin, justice for the tozier parents, maggie is a Good Mom, richie and boris are twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qmalfoy/pseuds/qmalfoy
Summary: “Now, I tracked down the adoption agency and they put me in contact with Richard’s parents. They’ve agreed to take you in.”“Take me in? And if I refuse?” He questioned, sitting back in his seat. He really needed a cigarette. Maybe a bottle of anything he could get his hands on too.“There is no refusing. You leave for Derry tomorrow morning.”Or, Boris goes to live with his long lost brother in Derry and finds a friend (or more) in Stanley Uris.Soulmate AU





	1. Fuck Americans

“You guys will never fucking believe this!” Richie had shouted, plopping down across from him at their usual lunch table, buzzing with the same anxious energy Stan saw him that morning. Lunch was the only time during the school day that all seven of them were together, and when Stan had asked his best friend what he seemed so anxious about earlier, his only response was: “Later. I want to tell all of you fuckwads at once,” and Stan would be lying if he said he wasn’t left wondering what Richie wanted to say throughout his next two classes. 

“Wh-what won’t we believe, Rich?” Bill didn’t look up from the mashed potato mountain he was creating out of his and Mike’s food. The food at Derry High was inedible on most days, and Stan often scolded his friends for not packing a lunch like himself. Eddie was the only exception, and that was only because his mom insisted on packing his lunch for him. He once told them Sonia was afraid the cafeteria staff would prepare the food wrong causing Eddie to get sick and die. She had a habit of packing a little too much for Eddie, so he often gave his extra items to their friends. No one commented when Stan showed up one day with an extra sandwich and a bag of chips for the group to share as well. He didn’t like how often some of them went hungry, and he was grateful no one, mainly Richie, had made any comments about his need to take care of them all. 

“Finally feel like sharing with the class?” Stan asked, tossing Richie a turkey sandwich and a chocolate pudding cup from his lunch box. Eddie had already given his thermos of soup to Beverly and his extra orange to Mike. The full body laugh he received from across the table at his question may have made him preen internally a little, but he’d deny it if you ask. 

“Why yes, Stanley! Guess what my dear Maggie and Went sat me down to tell me last night!” Richie paused, but slapped a hand over Eddie’s mouth beside him before he could make a sound. Eddie had no intention of answering, but Richie didn’t seem to realize that. “No, don’t guess, Eds. I’ll just tell you.”

“Don’t call me-”

“I’m adopted!” Eddie’s words abruptly cut off at Richie’s announcement. The silence that followed lasted a few minutes, the only sound being Richie digging into his lunch like an animal probably would. Adopted? Stan supposed it made sense. Both of his parents had bright green eyes and auburn colored hair. He probably should have wondered how they ended up with a son with eyes the color of milk chocolate and blacker than black hair. He mindlessly scratched at the words on his wrist. The other end of his soul bond had been going through extreme high’s and low’s for a few days now, and he tried to hold back the shock he was feeling at Richie's admission. His soulmate didn’t need his pain on top of their own. When he felt the warmth of reassurance coming through, he knew he'd done a poor job.

“A-a-adopted?” Bill had stopped assembling his mountain at the admission. In fact, everyone had stopped what they were doing before: Ben’s pen was left hovering over the notebook he had been furiously writing in, Beverly, who was covering her nails with a thick layer of polish, screwed the top back on the bottle. The only movement coming from the table was Richie biting into his sandwich. 

Stan looked up from his arm at Eddie’s sigh and saw the other running his fingers through Richie’s unruly hair. “That’s why I’ve been on edge all morning. I thought I was getting sick or something.” 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you... I wanted to tell you all together.” Eddie didn’t seem all that bothered if the soft smile he sent the other was any indication.

Finally, Bev voiced the question they all wanted to ask, “Why tell you now? I mean… after all these years?” 

“That’s the kicker, Bevvy!” He leaned back, propping his long legs up on the table space between himself and Ben. “They didn’t even want to tell me! Turns out your very own Trashmouth has a twin brother out there. His parents-” He paused, continuing after a moment of realization, “Fuck. _ Our parents _... kicked the proverbial bucket and the government wants to stick him with us! What are we? A fucking foster home?” Richie finished with an eye roll, but his wall of annoyance wasn’t fooling anyone at the table. Maybe he could have pulled it off before the events of two summers ago, before their lives changed and they were bonded forever, but not anymore. And never from Eddie. Not since they met in the second grade. Stan watched him attempt to open his pudding cup with shaking hands, unable to get a firm grip on the tab. Just as he was about to give up and just throw the damn thing away, Eddie reached over and silently pulled the top off for him. The small smile he got for his efforts was enough of a thank you, but Eddie moved his chair slightly closer in order to touch the back of Richie’s neck where his words were for added comfort.

“Two Richies? God must be playing a prank on us.” That wasn’t exactly what Stan had meant to say, but he couldn’t take the silence anymore. Richie was the first to laugh, followed by the others when the veil of tension had lifted. Their eyes met momentarily and Stan could see the relief there as if his best friend was somehow worried about their reaction to the news and Stan’s joke has set him at ease. 

“What’s his name? When do we get to meet him?” Mike asked, his usual breathtaking smile back oh his face. Stan saw Bill blush from the corner of his eye. They really were disgustingly in love. Stan was happy they found each other, even if that summer had been the worst one they’d ever experienced. 

“Boris. He’s Russian or some shit. He should be there by the time I get home. Who takes a fucking bus from Vegas to Maine? Like, airplanes exist! Anyway, I guess I can see if he wants to come to the quarry with us tomorrow. Only if he’s not a nerd though! I don’t fuck with nerds.” He pointed his plastic fork at each of them to emphasize his point. The tension in his shoulders had lessened, and the tremors had stopped, but Stan could still see an underlying anxiousness about him. Not even Eddie’s touch was soothing him the way it usually did. Stan couldn’t imagine being in this situation. He just hoped Richie’s brother was as excited about meeting him as Richie was trying to pretend he wasn’t. 

“You’re a nerd, Rich.” When Eddie was suddenly covered in the chocolate pudding he’d opened moments ago, he only had himself to blame.

**\---**

While his brother was busy wasting food, Boris was _ starving _. It felt like weeks had passed since the woman, his social worker, had put him on the next bus leaving Las Vegas, Nevada to Derry, Maine. In reality it had only been three days. He’d been living off rest stop vending machine food and shitty coffee, and he was tired of it. Every time the bus stopped to refuel or change drivers, Boris contemplated just walking off into the nearby forest never to be seen or heard from again. It would be so easy to run away. He’d been taking care of himself for most of his life anyway, and he had enough pills in his bag to keep fed for a while. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of his brother, Richard. If Boris had felt badly about his abusive parents passing before, and he didn’t, all that went out the window when he was told he had a brother by a complete stranger.

“I found something interesting while looking into your file,” His new social worker was saying. The nameplate on her desk read ‘Reynolds’ but Boris couldn’t tell you what her first name was despite being introduced not ten minutes earlier. “It seems like you have more family out there than we originally thought.”

That finally gained his attention. Tearing his eyes away from the blue colored bird perched on a branch outside the woman's office, Boris sat up straighter and furrowed his brow. “No. No family. Only mother and father. Now... is only me.” 

“We believed so, yes. Boris… did your parents ever mention having any other children?” The social worker was biting her lip nervously, uncomfortable with having to deliver this news to a kid who just lost his parents. He didn’t tell her that they’d never been anything resembling loving parents, so his loss was nothing short of a relief. As fucked up as that was.

“No, no other children. Only Boris.” They didn’t even want the one they had. Why would they have more?

“I see. Well, when I called the hospital looking for your birth certificate, imagine my surprise when they replied with ‘which baby?’” She slid the two papers sitting in front of her over to him and Boris leaned in to get a better look. “I had to get translated copies for myself, but these are the originals. You can read these, correct?” 

His eyes scanned the pages as he nodded. CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH, they read in russian at the top. Each page was almost identical except for the names. ‘Boris Volodymyrovych Pavlikovsky’ read one, and the other ‘Dimitri Viktor Pavlikovsky’. His parents' names sat neatly below on each page. Boris’ shoulders went rigid as he read. The timestamps were less than five minutes apart on the same day. There had to be a mistake. This just didn’t make any sense. 

When he looked up again it was with anger, “What is this? I do not understand!” He did understand though. How could any of this be any more clear? “This is not possible. You are mistaken!” She was taken aback by his outburst but his mind was too busy imploding to notice. A brother? Not just a brother, _ a twin _. 

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Pav- Boris.” His glare deepened at her reluctance to learn his name. Fuck Americans and their xenophobia. His name was not difficult to say if you cared enough to try. “You have a brother, kiddo. Congratulations.” At least she had the decency to look sympathetic. Boris still hated her. 

The mark on his ribs felt cold and he brought up a hand to rub at it._ It’s okay_, it said. _ I’m here. _ That had been happening quite a bit since his parent’s passing, and he felt a semblance of guilt for making his soulmate worry about him so much.

“Now, I tracked down the adoption agency and they put me in contact with Richard’s parents. They’ve agreed to take you in.” Boris turned back to what she was saying at this.

“Richard?” 

“Oh, I apologize. That’s the name they chose when they took him home. See.” She handed him yet another paper. Proof of adoption. Richard Wentworth Tozier, it called his brother. Boris preferred the name Dimitri. 

“Take me in? And if I refuse?” He questioned, sitting back in his seat. He really needed a cigarette. Maybe a bottle of anything he could get his hands on too.

“There is no refusing. You leave for Derry tomorrow morning.”

Boris shifted in his seat, an attempt to get the feeling back in his ass from sitting on the hard bus seat as he shook off the memory that felt so long ago. Six days since his last high. Four days since his parents' car went off that cliff. Three days since he found out about Richard. This week had been one hell of a year.

Boris vaguely wondered what the other boy was like. His Dimitri. He thought of what he might be like if he had grown up with attentive and loving parents. That is my brother, he thought, the best version of myself. He knew nothing about Maggie and Wentworth Tozier, but he figured if they were willing to house him with so little information, they must be good people. Better people than any he had ever met anyway. 

He touched the mark on his side just as a coldness ran through him. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one of them having a bad day. Boris lightly traced each of the letters on his skin to let the other know he was there listening. _ Calm, my love_. _ All is well _. He didn’t need to see his skin to know they spelled out the first words he would hear his soulmate would speak: ‘Hospital, maybe.’ He used to wonder about their oddness, but now they made sense given how many times he’d been admitted due to his lifestyle. 

A few minutes went by before the sharp cold was replaced by a soothing warmth as his other half seemed to calm down. _ Thank you _. 

Boris saw the woman before the bus had made it’s stop at the depot. Her hair was pinned back out of her face and the dress she wore was modest, yet Boris could tell the material was probably expensive. He assumed this woman was Maggie Tozier only because there was no one else around waiting as expectantly as she. No one would be that excited to board a bus, so she must be there to pick someone up.

When the doors opened, Boris grabbed his bag and made his way to the exit, nodding his thanks to the driver wishing a ‘good day’ to everyone getting off the bus. He’d have a good day for the sole reason that he didn’t have to sit on that greyhound for another second.

“Hi! Are you Boris? Oh, of course you are!” He stopped in front of the woman, shouldering his bag to carry it more comfortably. She was smiling ear to ear at him, and the sight was breathtaking. This must be what it feels like to have your mother smile at you.

“Yes, I am Boris. You must be Mrs. Tozier.” Despite how uncomfortable he felt in her presence, Boris let her pull him in for a quick hug. He had no reason to dislike this woman yet, so he may as well play nice until she gave him one.

She let him go after a moment, keeping her hands on his shoulders while she looked him up and down. “Please, call me Maggie. You look just like my Richie! Your hair is curlier though, and you might be just a little taller.” She seemed to realize her scrutiny was making him feel even more self conscious than he already was because she let him go and gestured behind her. “Come. I’m parked this way.” 

He followed her with a nod, cringing at the idea of having to sit in a car when he’d been doing nothing but sitting for days now. “The house isn’t far. Just a few minutes away,” She read his thoughts, popping the trunk so he can place his bag down. “Is that all you brought with you? We’ll have to take you shopping this weekend. Until then, I’m sure Richie has some clothes you can borrow.”

“Shopping?” Boris slid easily into the passenger's seat with a frown on his face. He didn’t like the idea of this family spending their money on him when he was perfectly capable of making his own. “Please. I have everything I need with me.” An extra pair of jeans, two tee’s, a pack of smokes, and a baggy full of assorted pills. Everything he’d ever needed. 

“Don’t be silly, we’ll just get you a few things. We won’t go overboard or anything.” Maggie adjusted her rearview mirror before starting up the car. “Buckle up!” 

The Tozier household was exactly what Boris thought it would be. It sat two stories high snuggled into the cul-de-sac of a safe looking neighborhood, and he had to stop himself from scoffing as Maggie pulled the car into the driveway. It would be wrong of him to resent Dimitri for the picture perfect American life he was leading, but he couldn’t help the tightening in his chest at the idea that maybe he could have had a loving family if his parents had given the Tozier’s him instead. A pang of guilt shot through him as he stepped out of the car. No, he wouldn’t wish his life on his brother. Despite not having met him yet, Boris would do it all over again if it meant his twin wouldn’t have to. The guilty feeling lasted through grabbing his bag from the trunk and following Maggie into the house. 

“Here we are! Went and I made up the guest room for you last night. Fresh sheets and everything.” The inside was even more charming than the out, with picture frames lining the walls and across almost every surface. 

As he followed her up the stairs, a picture of a little boy with giant glasses made him pause. There was a huge smile on the boys face despite having multiple teeth missing. The smile was infectious and Boris felt himself smiling back at the boy. “This is my brother.”

It wasn’t a question, but Maggie nodded anyway. “That’s Richie. He should be home soon from school. I know he’s excited to meet you.” 

Boris nodded and they continued their way up to his new room, his eyes roaming the other pictures as they passed. Many children made appearances in these photos and he voiced his question before he thought better of it.“You have other children?” He stopped once more in front of a photograph of Richie sitting next to a boy with curly blonde hair. They were each holding up pumpkins that were too big for their small body’s, smiling for the camera. 

“Oh no. Those are Richie’s friends. I’m sure you’ll meet them soon. Those kids are conjoined at the hip most of the time,” she joked, laughter in her voice.

“‘I see. And this one. What is his name?” Boris pointed at another picture. The seven of them looked to be around his age, so he knew it must be recent. They were each in swimwear standing with their arms around each other, posing for the camera. The boy in the middle with curly hair, the same boy from the other photo, had his arm around his brother with a shy smile on his face. Boris found himself staring at him more than the others.

“That’s Stanley. Those two have been friends longer than I can remember. Now, let’s get you cleaned up while I start dinner.” Boris let his eyes linger on Stanley a moment longer before following Maggie into his new room. 

The first thing Boris did when Mrs. Tozier left him to start dinner was take a shower. He didn’t know when Dimitri would be home, but he wanted to at least look presentable for when the time came. The bathroom he used was connected to his room, and another bedroom connected on the other side. He assumed the room belonged to his brother but he wasn’t about to go looking around in his space before he had even met the boy. Snooping could come later. 

Boris heard the sound of the front door opening and closing as he was pulling on his tee shirt, followed by a voice that sounded startlingly like his, yet american. “I’m home!” He was at the top of the stairs before he could stop himself.

“Hi, Honey! How was school?” Maggie came out from the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a spatula in one hand. 

“Good. Is he here?” Richie was looking around his mother as if Boris was somehow hiding behind her.

“He is. He’s- Oh, Boris dear, there you are.” Richie’s head shot up towards the stairs where his mother was smiling gently at the other boy. Their eyes locked, neither knowing what to say or how to introduce themselves. Richie’s hands were fisted nervously in his mother's dress, while Boris’ were stuffed into his jeans. He still hadn’t moved from the top of the stairs. Boris almost felt like introductions weren’t necessary. He may not know his brother, but he already loved him, so really, what was there to say? 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. He was the older twin, so he would make the first move. “Hello, brother.” Maggie was busy untangling herself from Richie’s hands as Boris made his way down the steps finally, stopping when he was in arms length of his twin. Richie was looking at him like he’d seen a ghost, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. “Good to see you. Been a long time.” 

The others' face broke out into a grin at that and Boris had no choice but to smile back. “Fuck yeah, it has!” 

“Richard!” Both boys laughed at Maggie’s scandalized tone. She was shaking her head in embarrassment, but seemed to calm down when she realized Boris wasn’t the least bit offended. “What am I going to do with you, Richie? Go on and show Boris around while I finish up dinner, will you?”

“Aye aye, Captain! Come on!” He left his mother with a salute, already bounding up the stairs. Boris could only follow after him. Maybe his brother would be more like him than he originally thought.


	2. Are We Related to Dracula?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Look who decided to post after 6 months! As you may have noticed by the tags, I've done a little revamping of this fic and turned it into a Soulmate AU aka my favorite trope to read.
> 
> SO I highly recommend you go back and read the changes I made to chapter 1! I mean, do what you want. I'm not the boss of you. But I think the changes are really great.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your patience and please enjoy.

The next day had Stan rising early, the sound of birds chirping outside his window putting a smile on his face before he had even opened his eyes. Each morning Stan liked to do a mental check of the bond he shared with his soulmate. Were they feeling Happy? Anxious? Scared? More often than not, a negative emotion would come through. He had no way of knowing the type of life his other half was leading, but he knew it wasn’t good. To his surprise, he felt contentment coming through. Had he ever felt that before? He didn’t think so, but he was happy for them.  _ Hope you have a good day, _ he thought, bring up his arm to press a kiss against the words on his wrist. When he pulled back, the words “Is you.” stared back at him. It gave zero indication of who could have said it, nor the situation they would be in when they met. He really didn’t appreciate the incorrect grammar either. He shrugged. It could be worse though. At least he didn’t have the words “What the Fuck?” scrawled across his skin like Eddie did. 

After a moment of continued rest, he rose to open the curtains and see his little bird-friends. “Good morning to you all.” He said as a greeting, opening up his window to let in the morning air. Stan knew talking to birds was a silly thing to do at his age, but he couldn’t help himself. It started when he was very young and his mother took him to the park. Instead of spending his time on the swings or slides like the other kids, he gravitated towards the birds he saw pecking at discarded scraps of food near a picnic table. Each week his mother would take him to the park, and each time he could be found searching for birds to call his friends. Until the day came when he made a friend in Richie Tozier. 

_ “You know they can’t talk back to you, don’t you?” A four year old Stanley looked up from his hunched position to see a boy around his age with a mess of dark unruly hair and a huge pair of glasses hanging off his nose. His head blocked the sun from his view completely and the bird Stan was speaking to moments ago flew away at the boy's loud voice.  _

_ “Yes, I know! I don’t mind that they don’t.” Stan stood, annoyed that this obnoxious loud mouth of a boy scared away his bird-friend. “You made him fly away!” His hands balled into fists at his side, but that only seemed to amuse the other boy. _

_ “Maybe I didn’t! Birds fly all the time! For no reason too! Look!” The boy was waving his arms about erratically to make his point, gesturing to the birds flying over their heads and into the nearby trees. The motion caused all the other birds around them to take flight, wanting to get away from the rowdiness of human children. He spoke again before Stan could ask him to stop or tell him to go away altogether. “Anyway, I’m Richard Tozier, but you can call me Richie. Do you want to play with me?” _

_ Stan’s eyes widened. He’d never been asked that question before, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He doubted he and this boy, Richie, had the same idea of what fun was. Would he even enjoy playing with him? What if Richie ended up being mean? Stan didn’t know what to do, and his confusion made his lip quiver slightly. _

_ “Oh no! You don’t have to play with me if you don’t want to! It’s alright if you only like birds as friends,” Richie was quick to assure him, not wanting to see the other boy upset. “I have a pet turtle at home, and he’s really fun to play with even though he’s not human! He-”  _

_ Stan didn’t quite catch the rest of what Richie was saying, too caught up in his thoughts. The boy in front of him adjusted his glasses as he spoke quickly about the things he and his turtle, Fredrick, got up to in the backyard. The new angle of his glasses allowed Stan to see Richie’s eyes clearly for the first time. They were a beautiful shade of brown and Stan felt himself having a hard time looking away. Luckily, Richie still hadn’t stopped talking and had yet to notice Stan staring at him in wonder.  _

_ Could he actually enjoy spending time with this boy? He could always run back to his mother if he wanted to. She would take him home right away if he asked, he was sure of it. He looked over to the bench she sat on just to make sure she was really there. Her eyes were shining with excitement on his behalf as she nodded at him.  Go on , her nodding said,  say yes . He wondered how she knew what he was feeling, how she always knew what he was feeling before he said it aloud.  _

_ Richie was looking at him expectantly when he glanced back over to the boy. He couldn’t remember when he had stopped talking but he hoped it wasn’t that long ago. “Okay. I will play with you.” He nodded, trying his best to hide his nerves. “My name is Stanley. What do you want to do?” _

_Richie’s entire demeanor changed at the question and he grinned at Stan, excited to have someone to play with. He grabbed the smaller boy's arm to lead his new friend towards the jungle gym, intent on showing his new friend the time of his life. “Come on, Stan My Man! Let’s hang upside down on the monkey bars until we puke!”_

Stan shook himself from the memory. He was still surprised he didn’t stomp away from Richie and back to his mother the moment vomiting was suggested. That was the first time anyone had called him ‘Stan’ instead of his full name, and he instantly loved it. Later, when it was time to leave and he was seated securely in the car, he talked his mother's ear off about Richie and how he only wanted to be called Stan from then on. Richie was there waiting for him when his mother next took him to the park, and every week after that until they found themselves in the same kindergarten class. 

He’d never say this to Richie, but he really did consider him to be his best friend. Yes, he loved the others and would do anything for them. Bill was their leader and Stan would follow him into the depths of hell if he needed to (he had needed him too, turns out), but Richie Tozier would always be the boy who offered Stan friendship before anyone else had.

He stood in front of his closet wondering what he should wear for the day. After breakfast with his parents he would be spending the rest of the day at the quarry with his friends, so he’d need something he didn’t mind getting dirty. The only problem was he hated getting any of his clothes dirty. Sighing, Stan closed his closet doors and turned to rummage through the drawer in his dresser that housed various articles of clothing belonging to the other Losers. They were over at each other's houses often enough that each of the seven had a drawer dedicated to the others in their homes. This was convenient enough for Stan on days like today when he could throw something on without worrying about his parents being upset. A Rabbi’s son could not be seen around town with grass stains on his slacks. 

He had to use a belt to keep Mike’s shorts up around his waist and Richie’s t-shirt was just a little too wide around the shoulders, but it wasn’t the worst outfit he’d ever put together. Besides, they’d spend most of their day undressed in the water anyway. 

His mind wandered to his friend as he adjusted the shirt around his shoulders. He wondered if Richie was getting along with his brother.  _ Twin brother _ , his mind supplied. Stan couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be told you weren’t only adopted, but that you had been separated from a sibling before getting to know them. He’d have to watch Richie closely today for any signs of anxiety. 

Stan found himself doing that a lot in the last two years; watching his friends for any indication that they were struggling internally. They hadn’t spoken about what happened down in the sewers of Derry in a long time, but he knew they all still thought about it. Still looked over their shoulders to see what might be lurking behind them. Still woke up gasping in the middle of the night from a nightmare they couldn’t remember moments later. They knew  _ It _ wasn’t really gone. He just hoped they’d be ready when it made a reappearance. 

He shook himself for his morbid thoughts, glad they hadn’t seemed to show up through his soul bond, as he made his way downstairs towards the smell of bacon and eggs. There was no use thinking about this now. They had fought the monster before and they could do it again. 

\----

Boris woke up that morning to the sound of a toilet flushing. It took him a second to remember where he was, and he groaned as the memories of the night before came back. Meeting Mr. Tozier during dinner was… awkward. The man was nice enough, but Boris’ poor social skills paired with his monumental distrust of father figures made for a strained first meeting. They hadn’t said much to each other, each more focused on their meal than trying to keep up with conversation. Luckily, his brother didn’t seem to have an off button when it came to that. The boy went on about his day, explaining the events in great detail and excitement. Boris had no idea anyone could talk so much without taking a single breath. He hadn’t minded though. Boris wasn’t much for conversation then anyway. He enjoyed listening to the other speak too.

“Are you alive in there?” A knock sounded on the other side of his bathroom door before it swung open to reveal Richie standing in his pajamas: Star Wars bottoms, and a grey tee. 

“Yes. What would you have done if I was not?” Boris raised an eyebrow at the other, not moving from his comfortable position. He couldn’t remember when he’d slept on a mattress this soft.

“Dunno. Probably been relieved that I wouldn’t have to hear that terrible accent any longer. Seriously, where are you from again?” Richie moved farther into the room, taking a seat on the desk chair next to Boris’ bed.

“All over. Russia, Poland, Ukraine, Australia, Texas, Nevada, New-” 

He’s cut off when Richie throws his hands up in defeat, yelling, “Okay! Fuck, I get it. You’ve traveled a lot.” Boris was surprised the boys glasses didn’t fly off with how exaggerated his eye roll was. “Were your parents human traffickers by any chance?”

A bubble of laughter bursts out of him before he had the chance to stop it. “Ha! You think you are funny, Dimitri?” He sat up and tucked his legs under himself, elbows on his knees, chin in hand, staring intently at the other. Boris was still getting used to how looking at Richie was like looking into a funhouse mirror. He looked like him, but there were a lot of differences too. His brother’s hair was mostly straight with minimal curl at the ends, while his had always been overrun by curls. Boris thought his face was more angular than Dimitri’s too, but that may have had more to do with how different their weights were. He had no doubt their faces would be the same if Boris had a mother like Maggie feeding him meals nightly. 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” The younger boy’s bemused expression almost had Boris in stitches once again.

“Dimitri. Is your name on Certificate of Birth. Dimitri Viktor. You not know this?” 

The boys widening eyes was almost comical considering they were already enlarged greatly from his glasses. “No! My parents only told me I was adopted like two days ago! Holy shit.” Richie jumped from his seated position, tackling Boris on the bed below him with a laugh. “That’s so cool! I sound like a fucking vampire or some shit. Are we related to Dracula?” He was breathless by the time he finished speaking, having worn himself out jumping in excitement over his brother.

The battle for dominance between the two had Boris panting more easily than he’d like to admit too. “Not that I know of. Is possible though.” He wasn’t usually on board with someone else in his space, but the ease he felt having Richie beside him was a completely new experience. Though the two had shared a womb for nine months at some point. Maybe it was just muscle memory. They remembered each other somehow. Richie finally stopped his assault and stood up from the bed, holding out a hand to Boris which the other accepted easily.

“I can’t wait to tell the Losers.” Richie was moving towards the door, Boris’ eyes following him until the other turned back to continue. “Are you coming? We’re meeting my friends at the quarry after breakfast remember?”

“For swim! I remember. Will meet you downstairs.” The other boy nodded and left Boris to change and use the bathroom. Richie had asked him the night before about meeting his friends and Boris agreed right away. It sounded better than staying inside the house all day, especially if Richie wouldn’t be there. The way his brother went on and on about his soulmate, Eddie, had Boris excited to meet the other boy. Boris still couldn’t believe Richie had met his other half already. Most pairs didn’t find each other until adulthood, if at all. 

When his brother asked about his own soul bond Boris could only reply with, “Am still waiting to meet them. One day soon.” He just hoped that was true.

He felt the wave of warmth as he was leaving his bedroom and smiled to himself. Boris’ soulmate was awake.  _ Good morning to you too _ . He told himself he didn’t glance at the photo of the boy, Stanley, again when making his way downstairs for breakfast, but he was never very good at lying to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [laufeysons](https://laufeysons.tumblr.com/)


End file.
